


Cookies

by ThornTyping



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cookies, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornTyping/pseuds/ThornTyping
Summary: Angela wasn't even close with Fareeha Amari. Yet here she was, asking to bake damned cookies with her.





	Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm new to Overwatch, and I'm not sure if I got the character personalities or any info accurate. I think it's decent enough, but, idk. Hope you enjoy anyway c:

Her tone was most certainly none other than straight up desperation. She wasn't even close with Fareeha Amari, considering they only communicated through passing hellos and small talk--yet here she was--asking her to bake damned _cookies_ with her for an urgent mission she decided to leave last minute.

The security guard probably thought that the urgent mission was some kind of kids party, considering her only reply was, "How many kids will there be?" followed by, "Will there be enough for me?"

Angela doesn't know whether she should stifle her laughter and tell her that it literally is for an actual mission, or laugh aloud, possibly insulting the other woman in the process. So she decides to just hush, until she hears a certain answer from the Egyptian.

Hearing the doctor's silence, Pharah sighs, almost dropping her phone in defeat. "Okay, okay. I'll be around in a few."

Wide smile plastering across the doctors face, she nods, only to remember that Fareeha couldn't actually see her over the phone. She feels her face flush with embarrassment, as she thanks her, ignoring the silence that occurred whilst she was nodding carelessly.

  
True to her words, the security guard appears at the door a few minutes after hanging up. She was wearing a casual shirt, which seemed oddly strange as Angela had only ever seen her in her Raptora suit. The Egyptian gives her a smile, reminding the doctor only of Ana, noting how canny the resemblance really was. Shame they weren't exactly close anymore. But that was really none of her business.

"So how much cookies are we going to bake, Dr. Ziegler?" She asks, stepping inside her small apartment, glancing around her.

Shutting the door, Angela frowns. "Please, call me Angela, I'm not exactly your doctor as of right now."

Fareeha nods once, smiling, sending her a small salute with one finger. "Yes ma'am."

Angela smiles at the gesture, as she begins to lead the other woman to her kitchen, cursing inwardly at the state of cookware and scattered ingredients. She glances up at the reaction of Fareeha, only to notice the look of astonishment.

She notices her swallowing once, clearing her throat. "I guess you really _do_ need my help." She mutters, letting a few stifled laughters slip out.

Angela rolls her eyes sarcastically, as she couldn't help but mirror back the energetic positive energy Fareeha was giving her; they should've become friends earlier. She's known her for so long, but never had she'd ever communicated with her, at least fully; she always found herself to ramble on or be awkward around the young Amari. And yet here she was, with another chance because of the newly reunited Overwatch. "Of course I do," Angela says, stating it as if it was obvious. "Lena left last second, and no one else was free."

Fareeha raises her brow. "Left last second?"

Angela shrugs, heading towards the kitchen counter, the other woman following suit. "Strange, isn't it?" She says, picking up her bag of flour, placing it next to the bowl in front of her.

She fishes out her phone, scrolling through simple recipes, as she leans her elbows onto the table, sinking into them.

Fareeha hums, as she begins to scan the area, placing the desired ingredients next to the flour. She silently ticks off the ingredients needed as it said on Angela's phone, continuing to search through the rubble of the kitchen. She eventually notices a salt shaker across her, but as she steps over to reach, there had to be a stray whisk, basically begging to be stepped on, lying on the floor.

Angela didn't even know what was going on, as she was too invested in the 'simple' recipes. If they were simple, why did they have more than twenty ingredients? And since when did chocolate chip cookies need bananas? All of the questions continued, as she resumed to scroll and scroll, dismissing the strange yelp she heard a few seconds ago, that came from none other than--

Fareeha huffs, as her bottom hit the floor harshly, and Angela--A doctor--didn't even seem to spare her a glance. " _Ouch_." She repeats, louder, clearer.

Finally, Angela notices; sort of. She glances upward, only to see a missing figure. She continues to twist and turn, only looking down after a few attempts. Her mouth gapes slightly, "Oh, Fareeha," She says, holding out a hand to pull her up. "How did you get down there?"

Fareeha takes her hand, raising from the floor. "Your lovely whisk desperately wanted my attention." She states, as she bends down, picking up the beater from the floor.

Angela lets out a few laughs, smile appearing brightly on her face. "Are you okay?" Her eyes turn to look at the mixer in her hand, before she points, asking. "And will we even need that?"

The woman follows her finger, looking at the whisk. She shrugs, "If you want. Spoons are preferably more easier to clean though," she states, pulling one of the thin metal strips backward, flicking it back into place with a ping. "Obviously."

"Then a spoon it is." The blonde decides, taking away the whisk in Fareeha's hand, as she tosses it away to the other counter.

"Wow doc, you really, _whisked_ that away from me," Fareeha says, mouth curling upwards as she tries to hold a serious face, failing instantly, as she breaks out in full laughter.

"That was _terrible_." Angela sighs, covering her mouth in mock disbelief as she slips out a few giggles.

Fifteen minutes later, and Angela was already regretting choosing the recipe Fareeha suggested. 'It will be easy' she said. She had been hanging onto those words for what felt like the last ten years, as she mumbles incoherent words to herself. Maybe it was because she chose a spoon. She definitely should've went for the damned whisk that tripped Fareeha up.

"How is it?" The security guard asks, as she steps behind her, preparing to pour in more of her wet ingredients.

Angela frowns, continuing to endlessly stir at the lumpy mixture. "The same." She says, sighing, feeling her wrists and fingers aching at the consistent movement in the last seven minutes or so.

"Is it because we didn't use the whisk?" Fareeha asks, looking away at the beater, which remained still on the opposite counter across them.

"I don't know," Angela mumbles, as she stops stirring, stretching out her arms. "It's really hard and stiff."

"Oh. _Okay_." Fareeha winks, taking the bowl as Angela stares innocently curious at her, as her brows slowly start to furrow.

She smacks her shoulder softly, rolling her eyes, as she sighs. "You're awful."

Dismissing her, Fareeha picks up the abandoned spoon, as she attempts to stir. The mixture had literally been a brick the entire time, which its appearance didn't look at all. She blinks, once, twice, before grabbing at the other bowl next to her, pouring in all of its liquid.

Angela protests, holding up a hand, "I thought you said--"

The Egyptian waves her away, stirring once more at the mixture below her, puffing slightly at the indeed--stiff mixture. It softens up after a while, as she pushes the bowl over to Angela, letting her take over. She brushes away at the sweat balling down from her temple. "You do this, I'll get wax paper on the tray." She instructs, turning away.

"Wax...paper?" Angela trails, as she tuts away. "Yeah, I don't have that.."

She bops her head up from the cupboard, sending her a desperate look. "You _what?"_

"We won't use it?" She uselessly suggests, as she definitely hears the other woman slam her head against the cupboard door.

So they don't.

After the smooth prepping--as it claimed on the recipe--Angela and Fareeha stared quite proudly at their flat blobs of dough, baking away peacefully inside the oven. They had grown to a pretty golden colour now, having chocolate beads scattered attractively around each cookie, which Angela had allowed herself to feel a little bit of accomplishment. She spares a glance over at the invested Fareeha, noticing her staring rather intently at the baking ingredients. She lets herself smile at the devoted look.

Noticing a pair of eyes fixated on her, Fareeha turns to look at the doctor, only to be interrupted by the sound of the oven, pinging loudly at its finishing time. She dismisses the idea, as she raises herself from the floor, watching Angela do the same, as she picks up a mitten beside her, telling her to scoot away from the oven door.

Fareeha does as told, as she watches the doctor bend down, pulling the handle to flood out a smell of a more pungent smell of baked sweetness. She gladly inhales the scent, humming in appreciation as Angela finally rests the tray on the cooling rack in front of them. Immediately, Fareeha reaches for the cookie in the far right corner, as she is interrupted by a whack. "Hey!" She protests.

"Do you _want_ to get burned?" Angela asks, rolling her eyes as she peels the mitts off her hands.

Fareeha shrugs nonchalantly, dismissing the consequence completely. "You are a doctor, what is the worry?"

Angela sighs. "I'm not a miracle worker."

"We baked cookies," she reaches over once more, this time, with a knife, prying at the sides before using it sideways to swoop up the flat cookie in a swift motion, placing it on a plate she took beforehand. "So, I disagree with your statement, doc."

"Well, not always then." She says, before taking the knife from Fareeha, slicing the cookie in half.

Grabbing the plate, Fareeha brings it close to her, blowing at the plate to cool it. She looks over at Angela, as she continues to attempt to blow away the heat. "Help," _blow_. "me."

Angela pauses, watching her as she eventually swallows her pride. "Okay." She says defeatedly, as she tucks away a strand, attempting to look elegantly as she copies the other woman.

"Wow, so proper." Fareeha says teasingly in between blows.

"Of course." She replies sarcastically, as she takes the plate from her grip, grabbing a halve, bringing it to her mouth, inhaling the scent before sinking her teeth into the soft, sweet treat. She makes a sound of appreciation, as she looks over at Fareeha, nodding approvingly, as she takes a halve herself.

The first thing Fareeha noticed, is how fragile and brittle it was. Halfway to her mouth, the cookie decides to slowly break in half, as it lands back onto the plate. She shrugs at it, as she remains with her current piece, placing the whole chunk in her mouth. The chocolate was still in a melty--yet solid--state, as it easily liquifies as it hits the heat of her mouth. The consistency was amazing, especially for a recipe as simple (sort of simple) as this. She notices how hungry she actually is, especially after she devours the other broken piece.

"It's good, isn't it?" Angela chimes, as she brings herself to smile widely at her--and Fareeha's--creation.

"Yeah. This is _amazing_ ," she replies, nodding her head passionately as she eyes the tray. "I really want another."

Angela feels herself nod, as she stares at the tray just as intently. "Me too." she agrees, as she begins to ponder to bail on the mission completely to consume these heavenly cookies with Fareeha.

Fareeha reaches out once more, this time, to the far left, but doesn't get very far as she is stopped once more; but by a soft palm rather than a slap this time. She glances over to the cause, as Angela looks to her, expression serious.

"You know," Angela begins, as she retracts her and Fareeha's hands. "I still have ingredients left behind so.."

"Another batch?" Fareeha finishes, as Angela nods just as fast. "I'll get the bowl."

 


End file.
